


The stage is set

by Sh_Wat



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Porn with Feelings, ooc probably, plot convenience everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sh_Wat/pseuds/Sh_Wat
Summary: Gotham is on the brink of madness again, and Jim and Oswald must find a way to stop it – but find a new way to deal with their tangled emotions may be the thing that they need most.--Alternative s4 finale timeline.





	The stage is set

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, and i'm not that fluent, so - sorry in advance for mistakes!  
Also, it's my first attempt at sex scene. I'm not sorry, but maybe i will be.-)

After the failure of the plan with the bombs Jeremiah Valeska disappeared in the labyrinths of Gotham’s slums, the last time he was seen in the company of Tetch, and Scarecrow. The police were swarming with exhaustion, combing street after street. Even Queen of Narrows had agreed to help – not forgetting to negotiate a pardon, of course - but her people saw nothing. Jim knew that there was still a man in the city who usually knew what no one else knew – but this man, too, was on the run, hiding from the fury of Tabitha Galavan and the Legion of Barbara’s furies behind her. The nagging suspicion that Oswald might join forces with Valeska the Second to have a chance against his opponents prevented Jim from going on a quest. But the more time passed, the stronger were Jeremiah's chances of coming up with an even more intricate plan.

Lee’s people have found Oswald – and Jim rushed after his shift, unsteady on his feet from weariness and nervousness. Oswald was immaculate as ever – though very pale.

And as always, they couldn't agree. 

Jim slammed his hand on the table in rage. Oswald looked displeased.

\- If you don't answer me now…

Resentment flared in Oswald's eyes. 

\- What will you do then, Jim? - he smiled triumphantly.

Jim turned away and dropped his hands helplessly. Oswald came closer, a satisfied smile on his lips. 

\- I know you won't hit me, Jim. And you know that!

\- Don’t push it, Oswald. - Jim's eyes flashed angrily. – Or do you want me to refute your theory?

Oswald chuckled suddenly.

\- Jim, are you serious? Is that what we're gonna discuss instead of the price of my information?

\- Only Gotham deters us from fisticuffs, - Jim caught on to ironic tone, and even almost smiled.

Oswald carelessly shrugged.

\- Who knows it better than you, - he added, tilting his head to one side.

Suddenly his look became uncertain. Oswald straightened his coat, took a deep breath and looked resolutely at Jim.

\- I may know where the people you're interested in might be. But first you have to get me out of here without the Sirens noticing. If Ed finds out I'm here, he might get some... ideas for a deal with them, and I don't need these games right now.

\- No, Oswald, - Jim rested his hands on his hips. – First you give a tip – 

\- Very well. Have it your way. - Oswald curled his lips impatiently and folded his arms. 

And then it happened. The tension of the situation - or rather the powerlessness to get Oswald to talk without playing his game – pushed Jim forward.

He put his hand on Oswald’s neck, saw the shadow of fear in his widening eyes – and then pressed lips to his mouth.

Oswald exhaled in surprise. And after a moment of numbness, he pulled Jim closer with both hands.

Jim already unconsciously stroked his face, from chin to temple and then on the head, - soft, soft hair. He, too, sighed – in surrender.

Oswald always tried to draw him closer; long glances, meaningful smiles – and Jim tried to ignore the fact that it didn’t change even after everything they did to each other. But now he responded, and there will be no turning back.

Oswald was dangerous, treacherous. Oswald was impossibly vulnerable. Jim could hardly comprehend what he was doing.

When their embrace broke – with heavy breathing, close eye contact – Jim spoke first.

\- I'm sorry, - he said automatically. – I don't know what came over me.

Oswald's shown quick, knowing smile.

\- We both know what it was. And what that means.

His gaze became piercing. Jim froze, as if getting ready for the attack.

\- And that the question is not ‘is it right’ or ‘is it wrong’ – but whether we will do it or not.

Then Oswald's face became softer, and his tone almost pleading.

\- Don't run away now, Jim. 

He held out his hand with the unreadable intention - of taking Jim by the shoulder to hold him, or to run it over Jim’s face? Jim grabbed Oswald’s hand but didn't push it away.

When they were so close, it seemed to Jim that they knew the truth about each other – even if they said the lies. From the day on the pier, when he ordered the beaten up small time criminal, who shouted like a street prophet about the imminent war, to never come back to Gotham – when he knew that he will see him again. This man brought him and their entire city many sorrows – but also saved them both repeatedly. This man he himself tried to destroy – and didn’t want to.

The moment had come to tell, not just to feel the truth between them. Their relationship has always been a rare mix of genuine attraction and business benefit. But now they can be more sincere. And maybe it will help their city more.

Jim smiled and looked Oswald in the eye.

\- Yes. The answer to your question is ‘yes’. And now another one from my side – do you want to go to my place?

**  
\- Aren't you expected at GCPD with information?

Oswald asked the question rather out of confusion. He rarely experienced such feelings, but standing in Jim's hallway – alone with him – Oswald could not escape the feeling of growing nervousness. He almost wanted to change his mind.

\- My shift's over. And didn’t tell them that I would go to you, - said Jim, awkwardly clearing his throat. – I wanted to check the information myself, in case you had it.

\- It would be very stupid to go alone. – Oswald felt unusually hot, and he did not quite understand why they were talking about it – Jim was clearly not going anywhere.

Jim laughed.

\- I would have you with me.

The phrase sounded involuntarily ironic to his feverishly jumping mind. 

\- I'll hang up your overcoat. - if you still want to stay, - proposed Jim.

It strengthened the Oswald’s resolve. He wouldn't throw them back now – especially since Jim didn't.

Oswald quickly freed himself from his coat, handing it to Jim. But it was still too warm, almost stuffy.

Jim looked him over from head to toe and grinned, turning away.

\- What? - Oswald exclaimed a little louder than he had intended, examining himself in search of something ridiculous: traces of dirt on his clothes, stray edges of his shirt or his trousers. Jim shook his head.

\- No, I just... haven’t properly observed before.

Oswald snorted. Jim was clearly not saying this in mockery – but his tone was still too teasing to calm his nerves.

\- Okay, I'll stop. Sorry if I’ve confused or offended you… 

Jim shook his head and took up Oswald’s coat. Oswald was so strict – he tried so hard even to visually distance himself from the world around him, to keep his head high, did not hide his limp, affected gestures – and Jim didn’t know whether he would be able to smooth the edges.

\- Make yourself comfortable, - Jim waved his hand toward the sofa. – If you want, pour yourself a drink.

This city was full of surreal, but this situation was by far the surreallest of them all.

And maybe after everything will change for the worse – maybe an attempt to satisfy mutual attraction will only exacerbate their contradictions, make them more suspicious, more anxious in the presence of each other - will antagonize them even further.

Was the moment of pleasure worth the risk? 

Oswald sat on the edge of the sofa with a glass of whiskey, turning it in his hand, the second glass waiting for Jim on the table. 

\- I thought you might need it, too, - said Oswald quietly.

\- Yes, thanks. That's really helpful.

Jim sat down on the couch next to Oswald, but not too close. They both still needed space. The awkwardness, the confusion of growing vulnerability – and the sharp, conceited, loving to take what’s his Oswald hid it no better than Jim.

Jim raised his glass for a toast. 

\- For good luck, - he smiled questioningly.

\- For good luck to you and me, Jim Gordon, - Oswald nervously mirrored Jim’s gesture.

He emptied his glass in one gulp.

\- Easy, - Jim laughed awkwardly. – We’re gonna need clear heads.

Oswald quickly put the glass on the table.

\- You're right.

Jim put down his glass, too, and, not knowing how to calm Oswald down, instinctively reached out and hugged him closer.

Oswald shuddered, but leaned slightly towards Jim.

\- I thought you'd never take the second step, - he said softly, with a shy chuckle.

Jim shrugged, and stood up.

\- Follow me, mister.

They both laughed. The nervousness did not dissolve, but the anticipation began to outweigh it. Both wanted to throw themselves into it, not to think about it.

Jim hesitated in the doorway of his bedroom, and turned to Oswald, who was looking at him with something akin to hunger.

\- What? - Oswald whispered.

\- You okay? - Jim exhaled. Oswald's face was so close, his bright, clear eyes so wide.

\- Are you? - Oswald replied, half-joking.

Jim chuckled and shook his head.

Oswald turned the doorknob, Jim closed the door behind them with a kick.

**

It was so clumsy, so hesitant at first, they literally felt their way. "Be gentle, it could be my first time," Jim whispered through his chuckles. "Then we both must be gentle," Oswald replied in tone.

\- You're beautiful... beautiful... - whispered Jim after, meeting the movements of Oswald's hips, trying to stroke both of their cocks at the same time. Oswald sat up in bed and took Jim's face in his hands.

\- Come here, - he said, somewhat reverently, closing his eyes.

Jim’s obeyed, their kiss was deep, hungry. Oswald's breath was quick, shallow, and he took kisses in almost violently.

Jim gasped, squinting painfully. He remembered to hold back too late.

\- Sorry, sorry...- he whispered thoughtlessly, burying his face in Oswald's neck, inhaling traces of his odor, still shuddering from his orgasm. 

\- It's all right, - Oswald said. They stopped moving too soon and too sudden; the unresolved arousal was still lingering, but it was strangely pleasant to feel Jim's warm cum on his skin. Strange like this huge, chest-overflowing affection he felt now.

He used to be proud that he’s a ruthless freak, used to highlight his shortcomings, chose the most exquisite suits, complied with all socialite pleasantries, - to shook them all, being the most vicious and cunning outlaw they could ever see. Let them hate him and fear him so much they don’t even dare to say it out loud.

Only his mother thought him beautiful and smart. But on the other hand – she didn't know who Gotham shaped him into. She believed so much and knew so little.

Jim knew. And Jim could still see him beautiful. Oswald had tried long and hard to convince himself that Jim was the enemy, that Jim hated him – simply was too impetuous to hide it. But he knew that he didn't see hatred when he looked Jim in the eye. It turned out, it really wasn’t there.

\- Well... let's just say it's a pity we took so long, - Jim said quietly, gently sliding from Oswald and lying down beside him.

\- Indeed, - Oswald smiled. Jim's relaxed and happy face was such a magnificent sight that he did not want to be distracted even by the unsatisfied needs of his own body.

\- You drew a short match, - said Jim, as if reading his mind. He started down under the blanket. – It's time to fix it.

His hands and lips slowly started to travel down Oswald's body. 

\- So-o good - breathed Jim, and Oswald rather felt these words on his skin than heard.

\- Yes, - said Oswald, leaning his head back on the pillow and arching to the touch.

Feeling fingertips sliding over his hips, Oswald paused, wanting at the same time to raise his knees – quite shamelessly – and not to shift Jim’s attention on his crippled leg.

\- Is it okay? - Jim asked, kissing the thigh of his bad leg – up to the knee. He moved very slowly, very gently, trying with every movement to be calming, relaxing – and ready to stop at any moment. Oswald didn't know if he wanted it to stop, but he reached out to Jim with both hands – and Jim caught his hands, kissed his palms.

\- Beautiful, - repeated Jim, and Oswald shuddered. 

Jim rubbed his cheek against his cock, gently kissed along the length, the head, fondling the sack 

\- You have such a nice body, - Jim repeated, beginning to stroke his cock – slowly at first, then faster and faster. 

Oswald clutched Jim’s shoulders to not pull his hair accidentally. Jim kissed his chest, stomach, teased his nipples with a light touch of tongue, not for a second stopping his hand. Oswald moaned, no longer holding back.

\- There, - said Jim, - now.

Suddenly he took Oswald's cock in his mouth – as much as he could – and tried to keep the same rhythm. 

Oswald almost screamed, his whole body spasming in orgasm.

Jim didn't let him out of his mouth until he’d swallowed every drop.

When he raised his head, Oswald smiled at him with a drunken, happy smile.

Jim leaned back on the pillow beside him, smiling back, and Oswald immediately reached out to stroke his face, his hair. Jim closed his eyes, positively purring. 

\- Jim, - Oswald whispered, and Jim opened his eyes just in time to see Oswald leaning in to kiss him. Jim thought it would be just a touch of lips, but Oswald opened his lips with a soft touch of his tongue – and the kiss was deep, strong, dizzying. It was oddly satisfying - that Oswald wanted to taste himself on Jim's tongue.

Then Oswald nuzzled Jim's temple.

\- You smell good, - he said. – I've always wanted to breathe in.

Jim kissed him on the cheek, on the neck, on the shoulder.

\- Yeah. Me too.

It was so strange, caressing each other in post orgasmic trance, chuckling at their own private softness. In ordinary life, they lived in an environment of constant danger, misfortune, battle – in a city that every year lost more and more human traits and turned by now into a grotesque witch coven. They should be on its stage now, grinning in each other's faces, forced to work together to eliminate another insane threat. Instead, they were in Jim’s crumpled bed, and they didn't want to break their embrace.

Oswald did it first – to fold the scattered clothes more neatly and wipe himself with tissues. Then he got back under the blanket to Jim, who immediately put his arms around him, even though he looked very much asleep a few minutes ago. Jim's fingers slid into Oswald's hair and began to massage his scalp rhythmically, gently.

\- Good night, Oswald. Tomorrow is a busy day.

\- Yeah. This night will be good, - Oswald said, barely audible, snuggling closer.

There was no guarantee that their city would not fall apart in an hour, and they would have to pull it out of madness pit – even if only in parts. But now everything was good and quiet - they were lulled by the warmth of their bodies, by their measured breathing.

Neither heroes nor monsters. Just lovers that belonged to that night, to each other, body and soul – for joy or sorrow.


End file.
